


Innocent Eyes

by gentlezombie



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Blooming Rose, Dragon Age Kink Meme, M/M, Masturbation, Orgy, Size Kink, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-30
Updated: 2011-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-28 14:16:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gentlezombie/pseuds/gentlezombie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A special night at the Blooming Rose, starring M!Hawke, Fenris, Anders and a variety of more or less respected personages, all for Bethany's viewing pleasure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Innocent Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Another oldie written for the DA kink meme. I can't remember the exact wording of the prompt, but it requested a voyeur!Bethany who loves watching men getting it on.
> 
> I blame the New Year spirit/fairy/demon for this sudden need to out myself with orgy fic! I don't think I'd actually written anything quite like this before.

**Innocent Eyes**

There were some things Bethany never told her brother or their friends, not even after a night-turned-dawn at the Hanged Man when the slurred conversation would inevitably turn towards all kinds of debauchery.

It was not that she was all that ashamed of it, although Isabela's comments would no doubt have been mortifying, and her brother's, oh Maker. It was simply very nice to have a secret. Varric called her Sunshine and she knew that for the most part she was as sweet and uncomplicated as that. It thrilled her to actually have a hidden depth like everyone else seemed to, something a bit dangerous and illicit.

So she smiled pleasantly and poked at Hawke's ankle with her toes every time he was about to cheat, and she looked over her cards at the two men at the corner table who were making quite a show of kissing each other. There was tongue and teeth and spilled cheap wine involved, laces being undone and hands shoved under threadbare shirts; as good as it got in the Hanged Man, really.

"Hawke," she warned gently, because her other eye was always on Hawke and the rogue's lightning-quick hands, and inside she cursed blackly because the couple escaped to the back just after raising the temperature of the room.

Bethany liked to watch. More specifically, she liked to watch men getting it on with each other. She didn't really find it peculiar or embarrassing - not as long as she wasn't found out, anyway -, because that was how she had amused herself since she'd been a girl in Lothering.

There had been a templar training camp not far from their house, on the other side of the woods where Bethany used to spend the long summer days gathering herbs or day-dreaming in the cool, protective shade. Turned out she wasn't the only who sought privacy there. The first time she'd been afraid, frozen in place as she heard the clank of heavy armour behind a line of trees. All her life she'd been afraid of that sound, because it meant someone had come to take her away from everyone and everything she loved.

But they did make an awful lot of noise, and some of the metallic, screeching sounds were hard to explain. Curiosity had gotten the better of her and she'd sneaked closer and peered cautiously around a huge tree-trunk. What she'd seen had hit her hard, straight to some previously dormant part of her that was now shaken wide awake.

The sounds she had heard had been armour grinding against armour as the two young men kissed each other passionately. It wasn't at all gentle and caring in the way it was described in the two-copper stories she and her friends shared and giggled over. They were rough with each other, biting and grappling and  breathless, as if this were another kind of fight, an extension of their training. That first time, she'd been blushing furiously and trying desperately to breathe, to exist as quietly as possible. She'd fled when armour hit the ground and kissing turned into groping, the little glade filled with the sounds of their pleasure.

Her day-dreams changed considerably after that. Next time, she stayed longer.

Templar-watching became one of her favourite things. Father always told her to be vigilant, after all. In her hesitant exploration she found out that nothing turned her on as much as the thought of men with each other. In the beginning she felt guilty of her spying, but she reasoned they were only templars who'd do much worse to her if they found out what she was. Besides, where was the harm in watching?

The Blight changed all that, turned her life upside down and tossed her to Kirkwall where the templars were locked up in the Gallows with the mages. In a city, it was much harder to find a place where she could watch inconspicuously; hanging around dark alleys was more likely to earn her stab-wounds than fulfill fantasies. The idea of a looking-glass and the neighbouring nobles' bedroom windows didn't really appeal either, although Isabela had immediately gushed over the perfect location of the Hawke estate.

Bethany did what everyone in Kirkwall did when they were getting desperate: she went to the Blooming Rose.

 

That night, she arrived well in advance and paid the outrageous fee without complaint. She dodged the attempts at flirting with a smile as she waited with a glass of wine, eyeing the room with a flutter of anticipation in her stomach. Everything was already in place for one of the more exclusive parties of the Rose: the tables and chairs had been replaced by low divans and soft carpets, and the drunker part of the clientele had been ushered out. When more people began to trickle in, she took the bottle of wine with her and slipped to one of the side alcoves with a nod towards the counter.

Unlike the other rooms at the Rose, the little chamber had a door that locked from the inside and a divan that was clearly meant for one. The most unique device in the room, however, was the enchanted window that allowed for an unobstructed view of the main hall. From the other side, all anyone could see was a painting of an Orleasian dandy, winking smugly from behind his elaborate mask. The illusion was perfect.

Bethany set the bottle on the table, settled down comfortably and toed off her boots. It was going to be a good night.

She had left the main room just in time. Tonight's party was male-only, and she licked her lips as she watched the rich and the notorious youth of Kirkwall slowly gathering in the chandelier-lit hall that for tonight had been transformed into a "Cavern of Exotic Wonders & Delights", according to the invitation. Perhaps the fake jewels glittering on the serving boys' naked chests covered the exotic part, and she didn't want to think too closely about "cavern". Bethany wasn't sure whether she should have been pleased or embarrassed at having received an invitation of her own; she had, almost accidentally, become a regular visitor, and those were well taken care of in the Rose.

The people in the room were mingling and chatting with each other, casting speculative looks and getting drunk and careless on ridiculously expensive liquor. Bethany poured herself more of her cheap wine and followed the couple of older men in the crowd. Lately, she'd noticed her tastes changing; she could still appreciate clean-shaven, slender men, but there was something about a bit of stubble and the red burns it left, the strength and well-defined muscles of a veteran warrior that had her heart thumping unexpectedly. She recognised a templar or two from their bearing, but that did not matter tonight. No templar would report a mage here for fear of destroying the cordial relations between the templars and the brothel owners, a truce the Knight-Captain was fastidiously overlooking.

Some of the men were wearing masks, but not all. For many young nobles, it was a point of pride to be seen in one of the Rose's invite-only parties. It could add the much-needed notoriety and spice to an otherwise dull personality. A bad reputation was, after all, far better than a good one. Bethany could see some guests like that standing in their own groups of two or three, trying to appear confident and worldly. She smiled to herself. After tonight, some of them would probably become regular customers.

She could feel the place getting warmer even in her cool hiding-place as more bodies gathered in the space. There were negotiations going on between two well-dressed Rivaini and a dark-haired elf who looked considerably shabbier but would still be very popular tonight. Elves always were. Bethany heard their laughter, saw one of the men leaning closer to whisper something to the elf's ear, and then there was kissing and the elf was expertly steered towards a divan, caught between the two of them. There was kissing going on in several parts of the room, in fact. Very nice, Bethany thought as she saw the scarred warrior she'd noticed before bend a templar recruit over a table, seemingly determined to drive the Maker out of the boy. Her hand wandered from her neck to her breasts, touching and teasing lightly. Her skin felt heated under her palm as her fingers slipped under the waistband of her trousers.

The door chime sounded quietly, a few guests late to the party. Bethany stopped mid-motion, her fingers tangled in the laces of her trousers. The three newcomers were apparently well familiar with the place and the kind of party, murmuring quietly to each other as they walked into the room. Two of them were wearing masks and the third seemed to bristle at the attention they were getting, refusing to turn his face to the light.

Even so, they were without question Hawke, Fenris and Anders.

In her shock the only thing Bethany could think was _a feathered mask, Anders, really? How very Orlesian of you_. The mage had shucked his threadbare coat, but the stubble did sort of give him away. And the hair - she could never decide if it was bad in a good way or just bad. And the feathers. Hawke was wearing a plain mask, but she would have recognised her insufferable brother anywhere. Fenris wasn't wearing anything - any _mask_ , that is - and that would have been a bit pointless, what with all the tattoos and the glowing and the very distinctive, pretty green eyes that she hadn't been noticing _at all_.

Really, it all came down to her knowing the three of them all too well. During the past years, she'd become attuned to their presence, had gotten out of countless scrapes with them, done them favours that were sometimes returned and sometimes scoffed at.

Now that they were here, she wasn't sure what she should do. There wasn't any doubt what they'd come here for. Was she violating their privacy? Should she leave now? And how could she do that, with the only way out being through the front door?

Hawke was talking to a young noble, apparently a friend of his, his arm casually around the man's waist. Bethany blinked. Was that... The black, spiky hair reminded her an awful lot of Viscount Dumar's son. Maybe she shouldn't have been that surprised; Saemus had proved unexpectedly adventurous and opinionated during their brief meeting. Saemus said something to Hawke and she saw a delighted grin on her brother's face. She knew that expression. Something exciting and possibly illegal was definitely going to happen.

And blast it all, the scene was still continuing around them, a lot more than kissing going on now. The sweet tingle of arousal in her belly and the curiosity over how this was going to play out between the three of them made her decide. If they minded a bit of voyeurism, surely they wouldn't have come here tonight.

Resolved, Bethany opened her trousers the rest of the way and leaned back on her elbows.

She couldn't quite believe her luck when the three men crossed to her side of the room. Now she could hear most of what they said through the thin, paneled wall. Fenris sat down in an armchair, chin propped in his hand and the customary glass of wine dangling from his fingers. Hawke looked giddy, like a kid in a candy shop, and he was saying something to Anders. Bethany couldn't quite make out what it was, but she guessed well enough from Hawke's emphatic gesticulations. Anders laughed helplessly at him, then turned as someone touched his shoulder.

"I've seen you somewhere before, haven't I?" The man was youngish, sort of bulky with short-cropped hair and a neat beard, one of the people whose posture had rang Bethany's templar-alarm. He looked friendly enough though, so it was likely he just lacked originality. She made a mental note; _smuggle some romantic fiction to the Gallows for the education of all_.

"You might," Anders said, sounding amused and not at all startled. "But you'll really have to do better than that. That's an awful line, you know."

"I don't think I'll need any lines with you," the man growled. He grabbed the back of Anders's neck and drew him into a kiss, savaging the mage's mouth until he was pressed up against the wall, panting for breath. Hawke cheered. Bethany cursed as she leaned closer to the window. All she could see now was the templar's back and Anders's hands on his shoulders.

The templar let out a surprised yelp as Anders spun them around. He'd sneaked a leg between the other man's to break his balance and used his grip on the templar's shoulders to push him against the wall. Now he was pinning the bigger man, his thigh pressed snugly against the templar's crotch, as he proceeded to kiss the living daylights out of the man. Holy naked Andraste, the mage was a good kisser, and he knew how to give a show. When he laid a finishing bite to the templar's lover lip, the man was quite thoroughly subdued.

"I don't think I like your attitude," Anders told him, his voice huskier than usual, all honey and smoke. It made Bethany's toes curl. She palmed herself through her smallclothes and rocked into her hand. "Like your lines, it could use improvement."

"Would you..." the man stopped mid-sentence, seemingly appalled at himself.

"I might, darling, I just might." The mage smiled at him thinly. "I do enjoy  putting people _just like yourself_ in their place."

Bethany made a mental note of Anders's secret templar perversions and made herself look away at all the other action she'd been missing.

That her brother liked kissing men was nothing new to her, but she'd never seen him trying it with so many of them at once. Hawke was stretched out on the huge divan just in front of the window. Bethany counted five men with him, all of them set upon licking and biting and kissing different parts of his body. A blond boy had his mouth and Hawke was kissing him enthusiastically, his legs splayed open and his body relaxed except for the tightening of his stomach muscles when someone did something particularly delicious. Bethany blushed as she heard her brother groan when his nipples were teased. She saw the outline of Hawke's cock through the leather of his trousers and knew she should've looked away right then. Instead, she ground down against her hand and fingered herself through the damp fabric.

But when the pretty brunette undid Hawke's trousers and pulled his cock out, licking a teasing stripe up the shaft - and she was never going to unsee that - Hawke stopped them.

"No touching the cock, that was the bet," he said remarkably cheerfully for someone who'd just stopped what was promising to be an excellent show. His companions offered half-hearted complaints. Hawke winked at them and grinned impishly. "I'll come collect later, don't you worry." That her brother hadn't turned that into an awful pun was something to marvel at.

Bethany was torn between watching them and taking care of her own mounting excitement. She glanced at Fenris, still sat in his chair, and wondered what he was getting out of this. Then she saw he had one hand inside his trousers and he was pleasuring himself slowly, his eyes huge and dark and always on Anders or Hawke. He took a sip of the wine, never stopping the motion of his hand. Bethany's breath caught. Of everything she had yet seen, the sight of Fenris, calm and collected and civilized yet getting off on the wickedness surrounding him affected her the most. The image caught in her mind, she closed her eyes for a moment, pushed two fingers shallowly inside herself through the fabric and shuddered against her hand.

When she looked again, there was some commotion in the room. A new guest, she gathered from the bits of conversation she could hear. For a while, her view was obstructed by people moving about. She drowned half a glass in one go, the wine settling in nicely with the warmth in her belly. Then the crowd parted and she was in for yet another surprise.

The qunari was unexpected. She'd had no illusions about her brother or Anders or even Fenris, really, but a qunari in the Rose? She didn't know what to make of that. She hadn't even known they had sex, save for breeding purposes.

She saw Saemus greeting the qunari warmly. The weight of the qunari's arm on his shoulder must have been crushing, but the young man leaned quite happily into the half-embrace.

"Maraas," she heard her brother say, and realised why the qunari had looked distinctly familiar. It was because she'd seen him around in the Hanged Man, looking for work. That someone was there looking for something useful to do instead of getting pissed on the horrible beer was unusual, but otherwise the qunari had seemed oddly ordinary to her. There was nothing of the surly, desperate demeanour of the Tal-Vashoth in him, nor the frightening, absolute conviction of the followers of the Qun.

Maraas took her brother's hand. It seemed awkward to Bethany, but instead of a greeting the qunari pulled Hawke towards him easily, pushing their mouths together. Hawke had to tip his head back and stand on tiptoes to allow the qunari to claim his mouth, a large hand splayed on the small of his back to support him. Bethany whimpered. There might have been sighs all around the room, or maybe it was just the rush of blood in her ears. Hawke ended up leaning against the qunari's chiseled chest, looking for all the world the happiest man alive.

Maraas lifted Hawke's chin up to look at him. "Saemus tells me you wish to mate with a qunari."

"Maker, yes," Hawke gasped, shuddering under the intense scrutiny.

"I am no longer of the Qun. Does this affect your desire?"

"My desire's doing just fine, and so are you," Hawke purred, reaching up to touch Maraas's angular face and thumb experimentally at his horns.

What was going on in the rest of the room was suddenly of no importance at all. Bethany's attention was solely on her annoying genius of a brother who was laying down on the huge divan just in front of her, shimmying skillfully out of his ridiculously tight trousers. Hawke did have a very nice cock, which he stroked unashamedly, daring the whole room to look. It was too much too close, or should have been, but at least Bethany knew her weaknesses. There was no hope for her now, so the only sensible thing to do was to admit defeat and get rid of her own trousers.

Maraas was just standing there, unmindful of the spectators but clearly uncertain of the proper course of action.

"Come here," Hawke said. The rogue swung himself to the qunari's lap before he'd even sat down, his own legs forced wide open by the massive thighs he was straddling. "Tell me, have you ever fucked a _bas_ like me?" He grinned his insufferable, sly grin that had cheated people of home and country.

"No." At least Maraas's interest was obvious. His huge hands gripped Hawke's hips and held him down. Bethany could only imagine what it would be like to feel the qunari's cock through a layer of clothing, to be ground against the hardness and to know it was meant to be inside you. "And I doubt I will again."

"Was that a compliment?" Hawke said, laughing but a bit breathless. A flush was spreading down his chest and warming his cheeks. "I think it was. For that, I'll do something very nice for you. You might even want to be with someone like me again."

Maraas grunted in approval or irritation at the human who kept chattering. He pushed Hawke from his lap and opened his trousers, freeing his cock. It was very proportionate, and very hard, and Bethany's hand slipped between her legs again. Maraas took a hold of Hawke's red hair and tugged, and the rogue went down eagerly, sprawled on his stomach.

The task seemed daunting; there was simply so much of Maraas that Bethany wondered how this could ever work. Hawke did not seem intimidated in the slightest, licking and tasting and coating the thick length in his saliva. When the rogue laid a dirty, dirty kiss on the tip of the qunari's cock, Maraas pushed him down again.

"Do not play with me, little human." The words were harsh, but his huge palm ruffled Hawke's unruly hair, his thumb stoking circles just above Hawke's ear. The rogue needed no more encouragement to take the head of the huge cock into his mouth, setting to his task eagerly. Bethany saw him breathing hard, his nostrils flaring as he struggled to take more of Maraas's cock into his mouth. He managed about half of the length, his lips stretched tight around it. Bethany couldn't see his eyes but imagined they were fixed on Maraas's, glittering with wickedness, or maybe half-shut in pleasure...

She glanced around the room and saw that Anders and Fenris were both watching. Fenris was still in his chair, observing the proceedings rather like an emperor presiding over his subjects, but he had set his wine glass down. Anders had lost his shirt, perhaps to the templar he'd been intimidating earlier, and his hair had fallen loose. He had an arm on the back of Fenris's chair and a hand on his cock. Bethany realised she'd never seen the two of them as friendly. She wondered if they ever touched each other, how this strange threeway of theirs worked.

She got a bit lost on that thought, felt the heat mount up again, spreading from her fingers. Hawke's throat was working as he swallowed around the hard length. When the qunari started to thrust into his mouth he pulled off, licking his lips and looking very pleased with himself.

"Anders?" Hawke asked, arching an eyebrow. "Sorry to interrupt, but we could use some assistance here."

The mage sighed and stalked towards them, not bothering to tuck his cock in. Bethany supposed it would have been redundant at this point. "I regret the day I let you know about the grease spell."

"It was a night, as I recall," Hawke pointed out as he scooted back and pulled his knees up, resting his back against Maraas's chest. "You were hardly complaining at the time."

"Just shut up for once, will you." With that, Anders leaned in to kiss Hawke, swallowing the rogue's next remark. And, because the qunari growled a bit at that in a left out sort of way, the mage threaded his hands around the back of Maraas's neck and pulled himself up to reach the qunari's wide mouth. Squished between the two of them, Hawke protested feebly, but they ignored him for the moment. Bethany agreed with them wholeheartedly.

"Finally," Hawke huffed as Anders returned his attention to him. The mage, his lips red and puffy, muttered something under his breath that might have been either "fuck you, Hawke" or an ancient arcane spell developed just for this kind of occasion. Hawke's complaints died as Anders took his cock, stroking the length with now-slick fingers, and did something with his other hand that made Hawke squirm. Bethany realised Anders had slipped two fingers inside Hawke and Hawke was trying to fuck himself on them, not stilling even when the mage added a third finger. Hawke was cursing at the mage, the angle apparently not to his liking. Anders was smiling faintly at him with something like fondness on his face.

"All yours," he said, stepping back to let Maraas take over again.

The qunari wasted no time in arranging Hawke like he wanted to. He flipped Hawke over, on his hands and knees, braced against the arm of the divan. Bethany saw the faint trembling in Hawke's muscles, knew that the anticipation must be almost unbearable. And to know that everyone was watching, wondering if you could do it... Hawke's eyes shot wide open a the first nudge of the qunari's cock against his opening. As Maraas pushed slowly, inexorably inside him, Hawke let out a whine that might have destroyed whatever dignity he had left but had Bethany biting at her palm to stay quiet. When the head was inside, Hawke was resting his head against his arm, his face turned away from the room, straight towards Bethany. She could see desperation, arousal and hurt warring on his brother's face, his brown eyes squeezed shut. He was chewing on his lip like he always did when he was trying to focus. Trembling with him, Bethany knew the effort it took to get the cocky smile on his face again, to turn and look at the qunari over his shoulder.

"Let's get on with it, then."

Maraas lifted her brother up, held him against his chest by one massive arm, and carefully lowered him on his cock. There was nowhere for Hawke to hide now, his open expression and his body on display for the whole room. He panted as he was breached further, fighting not to clamp down on the thick length, to be there and be taken and be filled. When most of the length was finally inside him, Hawke was leaning his head against Maraas's shoulder, overwhelmed like he didn't know how to deal with the huge presence inside him.

At some point Bethany had come again, listening to the sounds her brother was making. A few sparks of pleasure still tingling her, she watched as Hawke was lifted up again, clutching the qunari's arm for support. She was surprised by the care Maraas took as he begun to fuck Hawke on his cock. Presumably he too was feeling the differences in their size and strength. She could see the change in Hawke when he began to respond, the sensation turning from overwhelming to pleasurable. He ended up in the position they'd started at, on his knees with his hands scrambling for support as the qunari fucked him slowly and deeply, seeming to savour each sensation. Despite her relaxed state, she felt hot all over again as she watched the huge cock moving in and out of her brother who was gasping for breath, all but wailing as he was impaled again and again.

And still, despite all that, he was capable of speech, taunting the qunari to stop holding back.

Grunting irritably, Maraas put one hand on Hawke's hip and one on his mouth and did just as the rogue had asked.

The scene around them had deteriorated; there were people fucking, kissing, groping each other all around the room. Fenris was still watching them, and Bethany's eyes flicked to his cock, jutting up from a nest of white curls. Anders was kissing an older man with desperation, half-sitting on his lap; his eyes were trained on Hawke over the back of the chair.

Hawke, who was pushing back against the qunari with every thrust, trying in vain to get a hold of his cock as he was fucked into the divan. He bit at the hand on his mouth, drawing a few drops of blood, and with a snarl, Maraas removed his hand and covered Hawke's cock with it, the rhythm of his hips even more punishing than before. The huge, hot fist on his aching cock was too much for Hawke. He came, wailing like a Darktown whore, and slumped down, Maraas's hands and cock the only things holding him up. The qunari had frozen too, the contractions of the human's muscles around his cock too much even for his willpower. With a few more thrusts he came with a growl and a look of shocked pleasure on his usually unreadable face.

"Holy shit," someone said in awe. Bethany looked at Anders who had jerked off to the display and was now staring a Hawke in a way that could only be described as lovestruck. Fenris, on the other hand, was still stroking his cock leisurely, one leg slung over the arm of his chair.

"Can I borrow your elf?" Bethany winced at the voice that broke the collective, post-orgasmic glow. What kind of a person would go make demands of Hawke when he was laying there all blissed out, tucked against the qunari with traces of come trickling out from between his legs? Some well-dressed, masked idiot from Hightown, obviously. Hawke cracked one eye open, for once slow with the witty comebacks.

"You are mistaken, human." Oh. This was the first time Bethany had heard Fenris speak this evening. That voice, rough and warm with arousal, would have had the Maker himself flat on his back in a second. The dangerous edge of irritation did not lessen the effect in the least. "I am not 'their elf' as you presume. They, however, could be referred to as _my humans_."

Bethany honestly did not know what she had done to deserve this.

"Anders, Garrett, upstairs _. Now_."

Bethany shivered at the use of Hawke's given name, something even she rarely did anymore. Of course, not even her brother would attend an orgy and present himself as Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall, but the possessive manner in which Fenris used his name was very nice indeed.

Hawke extricated himself from the qunari and padded over the floor without a single sarcastic remark. Anders followed obediently enough, something Bethany had never thought she'd see. Fenris, much smaller and lighter than the two of them in his plain, black clothes, steered them upstairs with an air of unquestionable authority.

Hawke turned back at the top of the stairs to address the man who had approached Fenris and now, understandably, was sulking. "Good night to you too,Seneschal Bran," Hawke called out with a wink. A silver-streaked hand took him by the scruff of his neck and dragged him upstairs. A door slammed shut behind them.

At last, when most of the guests had passed out or staggered home in the early morning hours, Bethany closed her eyes in her hiding-place, feeling thoroughly fucked herself and entirely exhausted. She curled up on the divan and pulled one of the silk-woven quilts over her naked body.

She had learned much tonight and would later have to decide what to do with that knowledge. For now, she needed but to close her eyes and she had a real gem of a bed-time story to lull her to sleep... or to keep her awake.

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to continue this with a threesome but chickened out, mostly because I was afraid I couldn't do Fenris justice (brain, stop with the awful puns). Maybe some day...


End file.
